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Swallows dove and rode dreams
Visiting festivals of days old, cards being read by sad eyed gypsies
I sat there by the ocean listening to the sand being rubbed back and forth
Over millions of years. Breaking stone like john Henry.
There where secrets and whispers in the wind,
Ghost sat up to listen.
I looked out over gray hillsides of olive orchards
The first name of my great grandmother
IDA
A name so fare away, a mountain so high
Looking over the Mediterranean Sea, and the trees don’t lie.
They have been watching over time for 2000 years
With raindrop tears.
Mount Ida. Great grandmother to the sea
And with flying fish attempting heaven, and songs of men, and the regrets of women
I was alone
I sat with the rising sun watching two men pulling an octopus from the towns cobble stone walk. The sea snuggled right up tightly to the land, proud of her courage. She sat still, providing for the town. I also watched a cat watching the sun rise over ruins of war,
And a widow sweeping the floor.
And I thought of the many fathers that have abandoned their sons
And of all the moons that have eclipse the sun. But still there was no pain.
And with the earth as my bed, stone as pillow. I watched the growth of an old oak tree.
And I sat and listened to the stars as the wave’s crash in,
And it was here that I believed that I could live again.
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